The Bag
by Dewdropzz
Summary: All Jonathan Stoke wanted was to get to his meeting by six o'clock. What he got was an adventure through a snowstorm with a mysterious girl, carrying a large, brown paper bag... This Christmas, just like every Christmas that's ever been, thousands of people - Children and adults - will be spending the holiday on the street. Remember them.
1. Chapter 1

Every window of every shop sparkles with red and green lights, candy canes and artificial snow. There's a Christmas tree in the doorway of every business building I pass, and even big box stores are hung with lights, large inflatable holiday characters on the roofs of many of them, waving at people in the month of Celebrating wind, encouraging shoppers to come in and buy. Neopians young and old line the sidewalks and fill the streets, some carrying gift boxes and shopping bags, some still on the hunt for that perfect gift. Some neopets are smiling, enjoying this most joyous and wonderful season. Other neopets are glowering, frowning and cursing, appearing to be in downright hysteria that they've yet to finish their shopping list. This is a picture of Neopia Central one week before the Day of Giving.

It's incredible, really.I think to myself as I wander up and down these streets, searching for something that cannot be found. They don't call this the shopping capital of Neopia for nothing. If the Haunted Woods had this size of a shopping district, we would be much more financially successful a land.

Not that the Haunted Woods are not financially successful. But a bigger shopping district would definitely generate more money to the economy, and we could always use more money... Couldn't every land use more money? Couldn't everyone use more money?

Oh dear, I'm sorry. I suppose I'm getting a little ahead of myself here. My name is Jonathan Stoke, and I am a Halloween lupe. I'm a businessman — a seller of Spooky Foods, a type of cuisine that is not at all popular in Neopia Central, or really any part of Neopia besides the Haunted Woods. However, if I am successful today, all of that may very well change. Today I'm to meet with the staff of the Neopian Food Shop, and present them with the idea of selling Spooky Foods in their stores. If they accept my proposal, Spooky Foods will surely become mainstream. Allow me to take a minute out of our story to explain to you how this concept works.

As I was saying before, they say Neopia Central is the shopping capital of Neopia, and with good reason. If a product is any good, it'll appear for sale in Neopia Central, and neopets from all over the world will flock to the great city to see the new and exciting product before it's sold on the worldwide market. If Spooky Foods make it onto the Neopia Central market, well, I don't mean to brag, dear reader, but I have full confidence that they will make it onto the worldwide market as well. Neopets from far and wide will adore our delicious, scary treats, I'm sure of it. If this meeting goes as planned, Spooky Foods will hit the shelves of the Neopian Food Shop in the new year. ...If I can even get to the meeting, that is.

The streets are practically packed to the brim with carriages, but locating a taxi cab is proving to be nearly impossible. If the business district wasn't such a ways away, I would walk there. But it's at least a forty-five minute journey by carriage, and the weather report, as well as the dark clouds hanging over the city today, gives warning of heavy snow.

I stop for a moment at a street corner, in front of a shop window that shines particularly brightly with white lights and silver and gold ornaments, a thick strand of golden tinsel draped around the window's perimeter. I find myself gazing into that window for a moment, wondering how it will look in a few hours when it's dark out, and the lights will shine for what they're truly worth, without being overshadowed by the sun. Suddenly a neopet, a split xweetok comes up behind me. She opens the door adjacent to the window and goes inside the little shop. I glance over my shoulder in the direction the xweetok came from, and see a taxi cab, unoccupied save the driver sitting idly at the curb.

"Excuse me, sir!" I call to the orange acara on the stand. "I need to get to the business district, 1254 Sandway street. The, uh..." I take a folded up piece of paper out of my pocket and squint at the tiny printed address it contains. "The Keatons building." I finish. How come I can never remember that name?

About ten feet away, standing on the corner in the shadow of the building is a little girl, a plushie kacheek with long, fair hair, carrying something large — a shopping bag perhaps, in both arms. The little girl looks at me, and steps out of the shadows, as if she wants to say something but instead chooses to remain silent.

"That's a long trip." says the carriage driver. "You sure you need to get there? We're supposed to be in for some snow." The acara puts extra emphasis on the word 'some'.

"Oh yes, I'm sure I need to get there. I have an appointment for six o'clock sharp. As long as we can get there by then, I should be fine."

I give the driver my neopoints, and get into the backseat of the carriage. As we start to drive away, I see the plushie kacheek on the side of the road, and I can now see that what she is carrying is not a shopping bag, but a large, brown paper bag; the kind of bag you might bring home sweets in from a bakery, but much larger — almost a third of the size of the small plushie kacheek.

That's very strange. I think to myself, and I watch as the small neopet gets smaller and smaller as we drive away, keeping my eyes fixed on the bag she carries until she disappears into the crowd.

We pass a sea of faces as we make our way through the traffic. Some are happy, some are frantic. Parents hold on tightly to the hands of their children as they cross the street, often parents and children holding onto a box or a bag, or some other unwrapped package in their free hand. For some reason this makes me chuckle inwardly. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: They don't call this the shopping capital of Neopia for nothing. If I can just convince those big shot product managers to sell Spooky Foods in their stores... That would practically generate enough profit for the Haunted Woods to have their own shopping district the size of Neopia Central's! I smile as thoughts of huge billboards advertising our product dance through my head. The publicity that will come to the Haunted Woods, the money... The money.

The carriage stops momentarily to let a legion of shoppers cross. In the crowd on the sidewalk, I see the kacheek girl again, and I wonder how she could possibly have made it all this way on foot in such a short time. She must have been sprinting.

Before my mind can even comprehend what's happening, the little kacheek bursts out of the throng, and comes running into the road. "What does she think she's doing?" I wonder aloud. The shoppers pass, and the carriage driver tells his whinnies to move again. To my complete horror, the kacheek starts to chase after us down the street. I holler for the driver to pull over. "Stop! There's a little girl trying to catch up with us!"

The driver pulls over to the side of the road, and the kacheek approaches the carriage, the huge paper bag still in both her arms. She sets the bag down by her feet on the pavement, and takes a piece of paper out of her coat pocket, showing it to the driver.

At least I'm not the only one who can't remember addresses.I think to myself. Can't she see this taxi is occupied though?

It comes as a total surprise to me when the little kacheek climbs into the carriage with me. "Oh. Um, Mr. Driver, what is the meaning of this...?"

"She said she needed to get to the business district too." replies the orange acara from the stand.

"I see. How did you know I was going to the business district?" I ask the young kacheek. "And if you heard me back there, why didn't you get in then? Don't you know it was extremely dangerous what you just did? Where are your parents? Aren't you a little young to be travelling by yourself?"

The little girl does not answer me. She puts her paper bag down on the seat beside her, and motions to her mouth, moving her hand in a circular motion, as if to signify something coming out, or not coming out.

"Are you mute?" I ask her, letting my mouth go before I even realize that this may have sounded terribly rude.

The plushie kacheek nods, picking up the bag again and sitting it on her lap.

"I'm sorry." I apologize. "I didn't realize." I hope I have not offended her in any way. I would like to change the subject, but what can I possibly say to a little girl who can't answer me back? I can't ask her where she's going, so I decide to tell her what my business is in Neopia Central.

"I hope the snow holds out for a while. I have an appointment for six o'clock at the Keatons building... It's a meeting, actually, with the staff of the Neopian Food Shop. I'm a sales representative of Spooky Foods, from the Haunted Woods. It seems the Food Shop is interested in selling our product right here in Neopia Central. It's a huge opportunity, for everyone in the Haunted Woods, really, and it's my job to convince them that selling Spooky Foods in their stores is indeed the right decision. So if I don't get there on time, well, I won't be a happy camper."

There's just something about having a conversation with someone who you know cannot answer you. Or if the other party cannot answer, can it really be considered a conversation at all? The girl looks at me and smiles, and I suppose she's interested. Of course she can't ask questions, or contribute anything other than a smile or another facial expression, or gesture. I can't imagine how it must be, being so restricted in ways of communication. Suddenly something occurs to me. "Do you speak sign language?"

The plushie kacheek nods, and smiles bigger than before, as if she is delighted that someone actually thought to ask.

"I know a bit of sign language." I tell the silent neopet. "I had a friend who was deaf, back in university. Unfortunately I forget a lot of it by now."

The plushie kacheek starts to sign to me, her hands moving very quickly, all the while trying to balance the bag between her arms. I'm embarrassed to say I have no idea what she's saying. "I... I don't understand you." I tell her abashedly.

She points to me, and my hands, and starts to sign again, more slowly. I don't know why, but I get the feeling she's asking me what I do remember.

"I don't remember a lot." I answer, acting upon my first instinct. "I know the sign for flower." I press my thumb to my index finger and hold it up to my nose like I'm smelling a flower. "And book, and rain." I go through each of the signs, and the plushie kacheek claps her hands. I laugh. "I know it's not much, but I admire Neopians who can memorize all those signs. There's so much to know; it must be a thousand times more difficult than learning articulate language."

The little girl shrugs her shoulders and tilts her head to the side, and I suppress laughter at the endearing gesture. A very pressing question is still yet to be answered: Why is such a young girl travelling by herself?She can't be more than ten, or maybe twelve years old. Her long blonde hair is draped over her petite shoulders, and it encircles her tiny face, her cheeks and nose a rosy pink colour from the cold. The purple hat she wears is too big for her, and it sits on top of her wide blue eyes, sometimes half covering them when she moves certain ways. She is indeed a very sweet child, and the thought of her travelling Neopia Central alone is a bit unsettling. The great city, after all, is no small Meridellian town, so to speak. I would like to ask her these things, but I don't know if it's physically possible for her to answer.

So for the next portion of our journey there's little interaction between the kacheek and I. I'm not a quiet man by nature, and it's difficult to keep my mouth shut knowing there's an animate being across from me, and there's little else to do but talk to it at this point in time... Of course, I could easily gab about myself, the city, the weather, the carriage, or the fast approaching Day of Giving if I wanted to fill the empty silence that's tearing away at our ears. But I know this girl can't answer me, and one can only smile and nod a given number of times before the smiles become forced, and the nods start to mean anything but 'Yes sir, I agree with you. Keep talking.'

But as we bump along the jam-packed street, confined in stop-and-go traffic once again, my wandering mind begins to fill with questions regarding the kacheek and the large paper bag she holds in her lap. It is a very large bag...

The kacheek notices me eyeing her, and she shifts uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry." I say weakly. "I was just thinking, I haven't even told you my name. I'm Mr. Stoke. I apologize, that was rude of me not to properly introduce myself."

The girl carefully unfolds the rolled up paper bag in her lap, and removes a tiny pink mitten with the name 'Alice' stitched in purple thread up the side.

"Alice." I read aloud. "Is that your name? It's very pretty."

The plushie kacheek smiles and raises her right hand to her face, touching her fingertips to her mouth, and then bringing her hand down in my direction: the sign I recognize to mean thank you.

"You're welcome." I reply, wishing I remembered the sign for this phrase. "So Alice, what is it that you're carrying in that big bag of yours? It must be awkward to carry; it's almost half as big as you!"

I lean forward to peek through the slight opening of the bag, and Alice shakes her head, pulling it away from my view. "Uh, terribly sorry." I say, a bit taken aback, realizing this is the fourth time I've apologized to this girl. I obviously don't know how to talk to silent people. "I guess that isn't my business. I- I won't ask again."

Yet, as the traffic starts to move again, and we are about to pass out of the shopping district and into a less populated area of town, I find myself becoming increasingly curious about the bag. I'm like a kid before the Day of Giving, who knows they have a present under the tree, but are told they can't unwrap it until the 25th. Telling me I can't unwrap its secrets only makes me want to know all the more. I know it's childish of me, but I just can't help but wonder.

And then the snow picks up, and the roads start to become slippery. I don't know if something spooked the whinnies, or if it was ice under the wheels, but when the carriage skids out of control, practically tipping over on its side, Alice and I are slammed up against the inside wall of the carriage, falling in a pile on the floor when the carriage tips back flat onto its wheels.

"Are you all right?" I ask Alice urgently. The little girl nods, and scrambles to pick up her bag, which has landed on the floor beside her.

Listen to paragraph

I get up to see if the driver is all right. To my alarm, I can no longer see him on the stand.


	2. Chapter 2

h3 id="work" class="landmark heading" style="border-width: 0px 0px 0.25em; border-bottom-style: double; border-bottom-color: #333333; outline: 0px; font-weight: 500; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0.125em; word-break: break-all; opacity: 0; height: 0px; clear: both;"span style="font-size: 12px; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Chapter Text/span/h3  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I jump out of the carriage and scan the area for the driver. I find the orange acara laying face-down in the snow under the wheel of the carriage. "Oh no."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice climbs out of the carriage after me. She watches as I pull the acara out from under the wheel, and try to turn him over. I heave a sigh of relief when I discover he's still breathing, and seems to be in stable condition, other than the fact that he's unconscious. But I am not a doctor; I am a businessman. I need to get this man to someone who is a doctor. Unfortunately the place where we have 'crash landed' is a little off the beaten path so to speak, as far as Neopia Central goes. The snow-covered street on which the acara is laying is lined with small, family owned business buildings — Foreign grocers, specialty shops, self-employed business headquarters and the like. I know from my line of work that at this time of day one week before the Day of Giving, these types of areas are usually virtually deserted. According to my watch, it's four o'clock right now, and it seems the neopets who work here have all gone home for the night. Alice and I are the only people around, and therefore it is up to Alice and I to get this injured taxi driver to the hospital.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""I'm going to try and lift him." I notify the plushie kacheek. "If you could make sure the carriage door's open- Actually, if you could go in there, and I could pass him through to you, that would be very helpful."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"The little neopet nods, and skitters away. It should be no problem at all for me to lift the slender acara. At this moment, I'm grateful I was born a strong-built Halloween lupe. Being as gentle as a Halloween lupe could be, I insert one arm under the acara's shoulders and the other underneath his legs. As I predicted, our friend the driver is no trouble at all to carry. I lift him into the back of the carriage, and as promised, Alice is there to help me get him into place. When we've successfully laid him out across the bench-like backseat of the carriage, Alice looks down at the sleeping neopet with a look of genuine concern on her face.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""It's all right, dear." I say softly. "He's going to be okay, I think."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice goes over to her paper bag, which she has placed on the seat opposite the driver. She fumbles through it for a minute, and emerges with a woollen blanket of dark burgundy, and puts it over the driver.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Where did you get that from?" I say in astonishment, knowing full well where she got it from. This paper bag has now become the bag of many mysteries. Mittens, a blanket... Maybe she's transporting means of warmth to another Neopian to ensure they're ready for the cold winter ahead. Though why wouldn't she want me to see inside? The bag must contain something a lot more personal, or valuable than the items I've seen so far.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""You wouldn't happen to have any food in there, would you? Spooky Food, perhaps? I'm getting hungry."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"The plushie kacheek smirks wryly, and tilts her head at me.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Okay, I'm going." I say, before hopping down from the carriage. "I believe we passed the Neopian Hospital a few minutes ago, didn't we? We can take him there. Alice, will you please keep an eye on him for me?"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice nods, and I give a quick wave before climbing up onto the stand. I'm lucky I've had experience with driving whinnies. Of course, I've never driven these particular whinnies; I have no idea how the'll take to a strange driver on their stand. And I still don't know what caused us to skid out of control, if it was the whinnies who got spooked or if we simply slid on the ice... Whichever the case may have been, I will have to exercise extra caution.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I start them off in a walk, and when we've been travelling safely at this pace for a few minutes, I pick them up into a trot. The Neopian Hospital is only a few blocks away. Driving conditions are treacherous, but hopefully we'll be able to hold out for that long.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""How's he doing back there, Alice?" I call to the kacheek in the backseat. I don't know why I do this, as I can't see any hand gesture or facial expression she might be making in reply. I guess I do it because it makes me feel better, or because it doesn't feel right not to ask.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Before long we arrive at the Neopian Hospital, safe and sound. I pat each of the whinnies on the head to express my gratitude. "Thank you." I say to the gentle beasts, and hearing me, Alice sticks her head out the window and touches her fingers to her lips, bringing her flat hand down in the direction of the whinnies.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Alice says thank you too." I smile.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I run into Emergency to alert the staff there that we have a patient to be brought in, and half a minute later, two kind Neopians — A fire grarrl and a red vandagyre come to get the acara onto a stretcher, and take him into the building. Alice and I go with them, but before we go Alice takes the blanket that has slipped off of our patient, and folding it carefully, puts it back in the bag. I watch her app the while she does this, and Alice is apparently aware of this, as she performs her task very quickly, and hastily turns with a jerk.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"em style="font-style: oblique;"Hm, sassy are we?emI laugh to myself./span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"We sit in the Emergency waiting room for some time, waiting for word on our friend the driver's condition. The driver has been identified as one Albert Riese, a long-time taxi driver and well known citizen of Neopia Central. Mr. Riese's family is notified, and a speckled acara whom we are introduced to as Mr. Riese's son comes to take home the whinnies. Alice and I wait with the Rieses until a doctor comes in, and informs us of the good news that Mr. Riese has woken up, and is going to be just fine.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""He has a concussion, and some minor frostbite." says the green gelert doctor to the Rieses, Alice and I. "That was smart thinking, carrying a blanket with you on your travels. If he hadn't been kept warm, his frostbite could have been much more severe." The doctor looks at me when he says this.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""The blanket was Alice's." I motion to the little girl beside me.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Well congratulations to you and Alice then." the green gelert doctor grins. "It was very kind what you did. You both may have very well saved a man's life."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"We say thank you to the doctor, and wish Mr. Riese and his family the very best of luck, and soon we are out of the hospital, and out in the snow again, which has now turned into quite the winter squall. It's quarter after five o'clock — less than one hour before my meeting starts, and unfortunately for me , I am now without a carriage. I suppose I'm going to have to walk to the Keatons building. If it would have been another twenty minutes by carriage, I can probably make it in forty-five by foot. I should be able to get there just on time. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and stumble upon another taxi on the way.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Then I recall that I gave all my neopoints to Mr. Riese for his taxi services. If I was any prudent businessman I would have asked for some back. Hmph.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"No matter. When I close this deal with the Neopian Food Shop, I'll have enough neopoints to pay for a million taxis. Not that the money will just be going to pad my wallet, of course. It will be used to increase the standard of living for all Haunted Woods residents. It will improve the lives of thousands of Neopians, including myself. Will it not?span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice distracts me out of my reverie. She looks at me as if she's asking where I am going, although I haven't yet moved from the sidewalk.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Well dear, it looks as if I'm going to have to walk to the Keatons building. If I go right now, I should be able to get there just on time."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I start to walk in the direction of the business district, and Alice grabs onto my wrist. "This is very important to me. I know it's hard for you to understand, but there's more money involved in this transaction than a child's brain could possibly fathom."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Still Alice refuses to let go if my wrist. She trots along beside me as I walk. "Are you coming with me?" All of the sudden it occurs to me that although Alice knows where I am going, I never did find out where she's going. I've been so absorbed in my own affairs, I didn't even stop to consider the possibility that her purpose on this journey could be equally as important as mine . "Alice, do you have an appointment to keep as well?" It seems like a very silly thing to be asking a child.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice shakes her head.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Do your parents know where you are? Do you want to go back in the hospital and neomail them?"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"It could be the expression on the young kacheek's face that prompts me to ask bluntly: "Do you not have parents?"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice shakes her head again, and starts to move her hands very quickly in signs I do not understand. I do pick up something from her flurries of movement: She seems to be speaking of another neopet — A girl.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Do you live with an older sister, perhaps?"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice nods, and alarmingly, she starts to walk away. She looks over her shoulder at me, and then throws her head forward, smiling, as if to say 'come on'.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Wait for me!" I chase after the girl, realizing it isn't she who is coming with me, but the other way around.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Suddenly out of the silence comes a piercing, shrieking noise. I turn abruptly to see a carriage, its whinnies pulled out to the side and its wheels squealing out in front of it, and skidding out of control. It's stuck on the ice, and it's headed straight for us.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Alice, move!" I scream for the kacheek to get out of the road. I scramble to the sidewalk, and Alice frantically tries to follow me, only to have the bag slip out from under her arms. "No!"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"It all happens so fast — Scenes flash before my eyes of Alice running back to pick up the bag, crouching right in the path of the carriage which is now only a few feet away. When she stands up it seems it is too late to escape. She opens her mouth to scream, but no noise comes out. Without a second to spare, or time to change my mind, I plunge into the street and push the kacheek out of the way.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice falls on her knees on the side of the road, barely avoiding the swerving carriage, and I stagger backwards onto the sidewalk, catching myself from landing in the dirty brown snow. The carriage skids between us, passing us so that we are now looking straight at one another from across the road.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"When I catch my breath, I run over to Alice, helping her off the ground. "What in Fyora's name did you do that for?" I yell. "You almost got run over! What could you possibly have in that confounded bag that could be worth risking your life for?"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I must admit I'm quite startled —shocked even — when I see tears start to run down the little girl's face. She's obviously shaken up from this terrifyingly close encounter. She's literally trembling now, and the paper bag rattles in her unsteady arms.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Well then." I sputter, unsure of what to do. "Well then." I put my arms around the quavering kacheek, and she buries her head in my coat, never loosening her grip on the precious burden she carries. The driver of the carriage that almost killed gets control of his vehicle, and races over to us on foot. The purple scorchio profoundly apologizes, and I tell him it's all right, sending him off with a warning that the roads are treacherously slippery, and pleading with him to please be careful. All the while, Alice cowers in my arms. I hold her until she stops shaking, and the tears on her face start to dry.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""I suppose we should get going." I say after a moment. "That bag isn't going to walk to the business district itself."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice grins, and we start to walk.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"The first few minutes of our trek are rather pleasant ones. I let my mouth run, inspite of myself, but I've come to realize that Alice is not the kind of person you need to hold your tongue with. Though she can't speak verbally, I can tell she has very much to say in her own way, and I believe she's truly enjoying listening to the things I have to say. She even laughs at some of the stories I tell, though no audible sound comes out. It's very sad, I think, when I realize her childish laughter has never once been heard, and when she was born, she must have cried, but her mother never got to experience the joy of hearing the sounds of her newborn baby. It's terrible, I think, that some people are born with everything, and some people are born without even the basic necessities of life... I take too much for granted, I know...span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""So I guess that's what I get for hiding a ghostkerchief in my pocket!" We both laugh as I finish another tale of my travels. I walk on the left, and Alice walks on the right, Alice bouncing along beside me, not a bit exhausted from the long journey. The snow is building up beneath our feet, and is getting increasingly harder to walk in. Thank goodness the wind is blowing in our direction. It makes it much easier to push forward, but it is getting rather uncomfortably cold...span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"We pass a little cafe that looks enticingly warm inside. I'd like to take a break and stop over for some hot chocolate. But time is of the essence, and I don't have any neopoints on me.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""We could go inside for a minute, just to get warm." I suggest.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice nods, but when we approach the door to go inside, we notice the lights are off, and there's a little sign in the window that says 'closed'. I check my watch. It's going on for 5:30.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""It must have closed at five o'clock." I remark. "Alice, I believe I've noticed a pattern regarding businesses in Neopia Central: Big ones stay open late the week before the Day of Giving, and small ones close early." It is a pity, really. Alice may not be tired, but I sure could use a rest, though I'm not about to admit it.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Soon the snow picks up, and the winter winds decide they're no longer going to favour us. Alice and I walk along the sidewalk, though we could practically be walking on the road now, for the number of carriages have decreased to only a few scattered coaches on every second or third street.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Nobody wants to be driving in this weather." I holler over the wind. "I don't blame them."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice puts her hand to her ear, as if to tell me she can't hear me.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"We soon come to a stoplight, whose bright red and green lights are barely visible through the blowing snow. On the corner of the street over which the stoplight hangs is a street sign.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Rainbow Avenue." I read out loud. "We're almost there. If I remember correctly, the business district starts at the end of this street."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"But with every minute that passes, the path to our destination seems to get longer, until it seems for all we've walked we'll always be a million steps away. Thoughts of Spooky Foods on Neopia Central shelves pull me forward, motivating me to keep going. It's the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But does the pot of gold truly exist, or is it only an element of fantasy? Does this building I'm searching for truly exist, or am I chasing a dream I've invented myself, and achieving it will be impossible. Of course there's also the chance the meeting has already been called off. The roads are so bad that nobody wants to drive on them, and it seems only Alice and I are crazy enough to walk.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""We tried to neomail you, Mr. Stoke," I can almost hear a voice saying. "But there was no one home at your hotel room."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Surely they would postpone the appointment; book it for a later date. But that would mean this whole journey has been for nothing...span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"No, not nothing. I look over my shoulder at Alice, struggling to walk against the gale, holding onto her paper bag for dear life. Her head is turned slightly to the side, I assume so the wind isn't blasting her straight in the face, and her eyes are squeezed shut. She's such a small child, so young, and as fragile a china doll. But in all my forty-seven years, I've never seen a fighter such as this child. Even if my own cause is lost, I'm on this journey for her. Her and that extraordinary, remarkable, completely intriguing and inspiring brown paper bag. ...It must be very heavy...span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"In that brief second while I'm looking at Alice, her knees give out under her very light weight and she drops suddenly in the snow.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Alice!" I run back to pick her up. I don't know if she slipped, or collapsed from exhaustion. Then I realize I never asked her if she had been hurt from the carriage incident. "I'm so sorry, Alice! Are you all right? Are you hurt?"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"The plushie kacheek shakes her head. I admit she didn't seem in the least bit injured before, but now she seems utterly exhausted. I try to take the bag from her, and she quickly turns away.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Alice, I'm just trying to help you." I plead with her. "I'm not gonna look inside! Just let me carry it for you!"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Alice continues to shake her head. I don't want to fight with her, but I know the giant bag is weighing her down. She's no longer walking as fast as she was before. I could slow down for her, and, now I don't mean to sound like a drama king, but the longer we're out in this storm, the less chance we have of getting out of it. I can already feel the frostbite on my hands, and the tips of my ears, and Alice is now covered in snow from her fall. I'm sure we're both going to have neomonia when all of this is done. We need to get out of this storm, but every building we pass is closed and locked, and there's nowhere for us to go. Still, I don't take the bag from the little kacheek. Instead I take her hand, and drag her along behind me.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I hold onto her tightly, trying to keep her as close to me as possible. I can't let her get away from me. The snow swirls, the wind howls. Alice clings onto my arm, almost afraid to let go. For a few minutes, we both close our eyes, to protect against the icy blast, and to forget where we are just for a moment...span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"When at last I open my eyes, the world seems brighter than it was before. The snow has slowed considerably, and it's as if we've walked out from under a heavy snow cloud, and into a whole nother world. Through the silver clouds, a crescent moon shines above us, and the harsh wind that blew is now but a brisk winter breeze. Large, round snowflakes fall from the sky, landing softly on our heads, versus spraying in our faces. It's almost as if magic is at work here.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""It's incredible." I breathe, and Alice grins from ear to ear.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Though this area of town is hardly bustling, there are a few scattered pets around, riding in carriages or rushing in and out of buildings. It's refreshing to see other people again. During the storm it seemed it was only Alice and I. A small gathering of neopets have assembled down the street.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""I wonder what's going on over there." I say to Alice. "Let's go see."span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"The crowd of neopets are all heading up the stairs of a single building. I look up to the grey stone block, and read the address above the door: 1254 Sandway Street — The Keatons Building.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"It's five minutes to six o'clock, according to the watch on my wrist. After all we've been through, it looks like I've arrived just on time.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""I must go into my meeting now." I say to my young kacheek companion. "But Alice, what are you going to do?" I gasp when I realize the little girl is not beside me. "Alice?"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I look around desperately for the kacheek. I find her walking up to the Keatons building, but when she gets to the buildings great staircase, she does not go up the stairs, but walks beside them into an alleyway between the Keatons building and its neighbour.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Alice, where are you going?" I start to follow her into the dark alley, which is lit only by a single streetlight at the entrance between the two buildings. I watch Alice's retreating back for a moment. Then, all at once, another little girl — a yellow usul perhaps half the age of Alice — steps out from the shadows. The girl is followed by another girl, this time a blue kyrii, and after her come two boys, red shoyrus who are followed by a tiny neopet who, from what I can see, is a spotted korbat. Alice kneels down in front of these five young neopets and holds out her brown paper bag.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""What in Neopia...?"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"When all of them are obviously too shy to take it, Alice starts to open it herself. She unwraps the bag, and emerges with her first item: a wooden toy — a warf on wheels.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""But why?"span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"She then removes four more toys similar to this one, all of them old and well-loved, but still in decent working condition. The kacheek then removes some used clothing: three large sweaters, a handful of long-sleeved t-shirts, a few folded pairs of pants and a small winter coat, with a matching scarf and the mittens I saw earlier. At the bottom of the bag are two woollen blankets, a blue one with some sort of petpet design on it, and the burgundy one Alice put over Mr. Riese. These are Alice's most cherished possessions in this bag. It's purely heartbreaking, I think to myself, that a child like Alice had to be born mute. It seems more often than not, people who have the best things to say are incapable of conveying their words, for some reason or another.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"When Alice is done unloading the bag, she stands up, and all the little neopets gather around her. Alice and the children join hands, and begin to dance in a circle around the pile of donated gifts. They're singing a song, a Christmas carol, and my eyes begin to well up with tears. This was what Alice was trying to protect this whole time: Some Day of Giving presents for a group of homeless children, who, undoubtedly will not get any other gifts this year. The bag was precious cargo. Very precious indeed.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"The alarm on my watch goes off, telling me it's six o'clock. I should go into my meeting now, but will Alice be here when I get back? I'd like to ask her this, but that would entail me breaking up another meeting, one that's far more important. I wave to the kacheek to tell her I'm leaving, and she looks over her shoulder at me, then throws her head back into the circle, signalling for me to come over.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Alice, I can't. I've come all this way to-" I stop myself. What am I doing? I've come all this way to accomplish something truly important. If I'm successful at this appointment, what exactly am I going to accomplish? I'm going to make a lot of neopoints, that's for certain. But will that money make me, or anyone as happy as these five destitute children, dancing around the worn-out clothes and rickety wooden toys they've just received?span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"I run toward Alice and her friends and join in the celebration, holding hands with Alice and the yellow usul as we whirl about in the circle. The owners of the Neopian Food Shop will just have to wait for me.span/p  
>p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Because a bag containing this much meaning is worth much more than a bag of gold.span/p 


End file.
